


The King and I

by cortchuzska



Series: The Last Lion [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortchuzska/pseuds/cortchuzska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Baratheon and Jaime Lannister are brothers-in-law: they can't stand each other, but Robert needs Jaime's help in family affairs, and Jaime is as always a 'family first'  man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King and I

“Have a seat and get yourself something to drink, Jaime!”

His brother-in-law was gloriously drunken.

“I'm on duty, Your Majesty.” He respectfully answered.

In his own mind, Jaime always referred to the Royal Family that way: he never used 'King Robert', but 'my brother-in-law' ; nor 'Queen Cersei' but 'sweet sister'; nor 'Prince Jeoffrey, heir to the Iron Throne' but 'our eldest'. Somehow the truth had to be wholly told, lest it would leak when better kept secret.

“That's the Lannisters: duty, always duty, only duty and no fun!”

Robert guzzled his goblet clean, and with a sleeve wiped the wine spilled on his beard.

“No fun, no booze, no girls; nothing at all, for your oath. Can you retort anything , Kingslayer?”

At least, his brother-in-law would say it to his face and not behind his back; be sure he did appreciate him killing King Aerys – that and stepping out of the Iron Throne. Jaime whisked away the most disturbing fact that Robert was the only one in the Seven Kingdoms fully sharing his own views on his finest deeds, the two worthiest acts of his life – perchance the only ones worth noting. Possibly, the only two things his brother-in-law liked in him.

The swine slapped genially his shoulder; a pat that could knock down a horse. Thankfully, Jaime was wearing his armour.

“What I love in you, boy, is how you can keep still. If only Cersei was more akin to you, how different our marriage would be! Quiet, silence, peace..”

The drunk's gaze wandered dreamily, and his sottishness was drifting to poetic wetlands. Usually a 'what-if-I-had-married-Lyanna-Stark-instead' rant would follow. In Jaime opinion, she would have fled back to Winterfell in a flick, and Eddard Stark, Robert best friend, would soon turn into a foe. He remembered how exceedingly demanding the Starks' sense of honour was and how stern their judgement regarding faithfulness.

“Sometimes I'm afraid I married the wrong twin: I should have married you, Oathbreaker, and not your sister!”

Most times, you would have been too besotten to tell the difference: we shared your royal bed more often than you would assume. Jaime allowed himself a sneering smile. He recollected some epic feats, a royally drunken Robert, snoring on the royal bedchamber floor, and an equally royally raging Cersei, positively steaming on the royal bed. Sweet sister! More tiger than lioness, and more dragon than tiger: he was no less proud of scars gained in Robert's bedsheets than of the field won ones. Tommen, his youngest one, and second in line, mellow, plump and fluffy as a lemoncake issuing from such a battle still amazed him.

“Back to business.”

Affairs that Robert would willingly confront with only if well out of it.

“Sit down and drink your wine, boy: that's an order.”

Jaime obediently sipped his cup. Calling him boy was one of his brother-in-law favourite jape. Actually, he had not changed that much: his smile had grown haughtier, his body a bit taller and more muscular, his sword a lot more feared, still he was the same Jaime Lannister joining the Kingsguard at fifteen. Robert voice was taunting, but in the way he looked at him lingered a shadow of envy. Maybe the King himself could be added to the list of men who would have liked to be Jaime Lannister.

“I'm going North, to Winterfell, and you're the only one here I can trust.”

Not only his brother-in-law was the only one to trust him; even worse, his brother-in-law trusted him only.

“I could entrust you with the Iron Throne, and you wouldn't take it.”

Of course he would reject the Iron Throne if offered: he had already seized it, and got rid of with no flinch. Wisest choice ever: he remembered all too well what was going with it. His brother-in-law's reign was better than Aerys's one, but not as to change his mind. Time and responsibilities, or rather escaping from them and trying to forget in women and wine, had taken their toll on Robert, and the shiny black bearded champion, a man who won Jaime's himself reluctant admiration, had turned into an old boar, as stubbly, as fat, and as stinky.

“I'm going North with Cersei. It's your sister, you don't know that much about women, so you can take my word here: despite years, and three children, she is still ravishing. Too beautiful to be entrusted to any other member of my Kingsguard but you.”

Living together so closely with his fellow White Swords, he had come to unwittingly know their secrets; the least chastity being the least respected vow. He was reviled for breaking his own oath once: there were brothers who did on a regular basis.

“There are brethren in the Kingsguard whose liking... doesn't lay in women.”

He even politely declined some advances.

Jaime had never been northerner than the Neck and had no desire to go further, less to meet Lord Stark, the righteous man who had wanted him to the Wall, because of his services to his friend Robert, who was a moron of better sense, and let him in the Kingsguard.

Still worse, being for the whole time so close to Cersei he could touch her, but only in a brotherly way – travels offered little privacy – sounded like agony.

His brother-by-law guffawed. “I'd rather have you to keep the children and Cersei company during the journey while I'm away.”

The journey was no more enticing for that. Jaime's heart didn't harbour more fatherly feelings than Robert's one, and favourite uncle office was firmly hold by his little brother, at least among his youngest children; to the eldest, uncle Tyrion was mainly a favourite mocking target.

“On exploration.” Jaime sympathetically added. His brother-in-law had grown tired of King's Landing whorehouses, already thoroughly explored, and Northern wenches would be a welcome change.

“Sooner or later I'll show you how exploration can be fun.”

Cersei finding out was sort of what the Mad King would call fun: she strangling Jaime with Robert's guts was only one of many funny options.

“How can you tell I'm not one of those aforementioned brethren myself?” He smirked wryly.

“I know better: I have informants of mine at the Street of Silk.”

“Lord Baelish?” What a stupid thing to say, Jaime, as Robert's harassing belief he was as innocent as a blushing daisy was not firm enough. His brother-by-law had no need of Littlefinger's whispers: he had intimate acquaintances in every King's Landing brothel, from top ranking houses to the darkest den in the Flea Bottom. Simply overhearing snippets of conversation down there, where establishments could cater to any taste, his brother-in-law could likely tell where his comrades' peculiar inclinations slanted far better than him, and the slope angle.

“The Lannisters' name is well known in the district, thanks to your little brother Tyrion, but you are a true legend. Everyone has heard about you, no one has seen you for real, and wisest people doubt your very existence. I have been asked how could a dwarf possibly join the Kingsguard, go figure!”

Robert poured himself and promptly quaffed a pair of cups.

“Apparently, you are flawless. No boys, no girls. At last, a vow you can keep effortlessly.”

“I'm married with my sword.” He soberly replied.

“You're not, Jaime. After so many years, any husband would commit some minor indiscretions. I know your little secret: you and your sword are not married, but wildly, madly in love with each other: a fifteen years old lad and his first maid!”

Robert drunkenly cackled.

“You really loathe Lord Stark, boy, don't you? You'd do anything to shun him. But you and Ned have a lot more in common than either of you would believe: I don't like you, Kingslayer - no offence meant, you're too Lannister - but you're the only two men I can trust. Duty is everything that matters to you both.”

Jaime squirmed at ill ease. His brother-in-law was the only one to trust him, his brother-in-law trusted him more than anyone else in the Kingsguard, and he shared such unwanted honour with Robert's best friend, who would gladly see him to the Wall. Was he expected to befriend the Stark? How delighted he was at the family and friends reunion up North.

Enough of these love-talks. It was blatant Robert wanted him to do something, but as usual he didn't bother asking: he was the King, and Jaime had to guess.

“So we're going to Winterfell with Cersei and the children, Your Majesty. What for?”

“I don't account to my Kingsguard for what I'm doing, Jaime, but you're part of the family, so to speak. Ned has two girls, about the proper age, both eligible for Jeoffrey; we'll see.”

“Had the Queen her say on it?”

Robert grumbled. “I didn't even have words with Lord Stark yet. It should be a surprise to her.”

Translation to the smallfolk: “She is your twin, you know how to deal with her, you're the only one who can calm her down... no longer my problem.”

So that was it. Great. His brother-in-law needed him as a buffer with his own sister, when the news would burst. Jaime was far from keen on his son marrying a Stark girl, nonetheless that was none of his business, while Cersei would strive to undermine her husband's plans, whatever they could be.

He could never understand his sister conjugal war. She didn't love Robert, but that was all for the best to Jaime, who at first had to quench some jealousy fires, and it was the rule in arranged marriages; his brother-by-law was obdurately unfaithful, and even that was normal to most husbands, maybe not with the same passionate devotion to whoring; but after all, why did she care, if she didn't care about him? Cersei was the Queen: what more she could ever get?

He even told her once.

“Robert is a dick, and you don't love him: so what? You're the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, stop dreaming you're a fairy tale Princess. You're just like him mourning his beloved Lyanna, or father's might-have-beens about our mother: if just things had worked out differently, how happy they could have been with them! They are happy with them in their dreams only, but I'll wager, in this world as it is, if things had been different, they never would. Take it easy and get real, sister. You're the Queen and I'm here, wanting for you: what else do we need?”

“The trouble with you, brother, it's you lack any ambitions.” Cersei's voice echoed Lord Tywin's one, and Jaime stared at the ceiling.

“My son, you have no goals, no ambitions. What are you going to do with your life?”

“I gave up titles, honours, properties, everything to serve in the Kingsguard.”

“If you really think so, you'd better take Lord Stark's advise and join the Night's Watch: the Wall suits you more than King's Landing.”

Jaime huffed and patted his thigh. “Back to bed and shut up, Cersei. I have the early shift and not much time.”

Her body was wiser and better tuned with Jaime's desire than her words.

Even peacekeeping missions had upsides.

  
  



End file.
